Evolution begins with an ant colony

Beneath the starry night sky, within the well-lit confines of the royal capital's castle academy's training grounds, a figure stood in the soft glow of the moon, grappling with his own vexation. Ken, with his tousled blond hair that seemed to shimmer in the moonlight, was locked in a fierce struggle against frustration.

His striking azure eyes, typically filled with determination, now held a glint of exasperation as he labored to condense an aura blade.

Adorned in the royal castle academy's uniform, Ken's tall and lean frame was accentuated by the finely tailored attire. The uniform consisted of a deep navy jacket adorned with golden accents, emphasizing the academy's prestigious heritage. A silver badge, etched with the academy's emblem, glistened proudly on his chest.

The trousers, a matching shade of navy, were impeccably pressed, a testament to Ken's meticulous nature even in the face of frustration.

With furrowed brows and a determined expression, Ken muttered under his breath, "Come on, why isn't it working?" His words, tinged with a hint of anger, hung in the crisp night air as he continued to grapple with the elusive skill of condensing an aura blade, as he stood in the training grounds with a sword in his hands.

The moonlight painted a portrait of unwavering perseverance as he tirelessly pursued his goal, determined to overcome this particular hurdle on his journey to becoming a 3★ swordsman.

Under the tranquil moonlight, Ken's determined struggle with aura blade condensation was interrupted by approaching footsteps. With a swift turn of his head, his piercing blue eyes locked onto two familiar figures approaching him. It was Chris and John, his fellow classmates at the academy, both clad in the same finely tailored uniform as Ken.

Chris, with his short, raven-black hair and a sly grin on his face, decided to break the silence with a smug tone. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen," he taunted, his words laced with a hint of mockery.

Ken's expression shifted slightly, a touch of seriousness crossing his features. He squared his shoulders, ready for a confrontation. "What did you say?" His voice held a note of challenge. "What's with that tone, Chris? Don't you remember who I am? Besides, aren't you supposed to call me 'boss' and support me?"

John had a commanding presence with a tall, athletic build. His vibrant green hair contrasted sharply with his piercing yellow eyes. In the academy's uniform, he exuded confidence and authority, he chimed in with a monotone voice. "Don't get us wrong, Ken," he said matter-of-factly.

"As much as we'd love to call you 'boss' again, it's a bit challenging when you're considerably weaker than us." John and Chris, both 3★ swordsmen, had mastered aura blade condensation nearly two months ago, a fact that now set them apart from Ken in their rankings.

John continued speaking, his gestures emphasizing his , Your money and power back on Earth are utterly worthless in this realm. It's not as if you brought any cash with you when you got summoned." He raised an eyebrow, challenging Ken to argue.

Chris couldn't resist joining in, his voice tinged with smugness. "And those paper bills you cherished so much wouldn't hold any value in a world that deals in gold, silver, and copper," he remarked, a smirk playing on his lips. His chuckle followed.

"Damn, I can just imagine Akun laughing his lungs out if he saw how powerless you are right now." His laughter carried a note of mockery, echoing in the moonlit training grounds.

Ken's grip on the hilt of his practice sword tightened, his knuckles turning white as frustration coursed through him. He ground his teeth together, struggling to contain his anger, and then finally let out his words through clenched jaws, his voice laced with irritation. "I dare you to say that again."

Chris's previous smugness gave way to a more serious tone. He leaned in, his eyes locked on Ken's, and he challenged him. "Or what? What could you possibly do to the both of us? Do you want to attack us with your shabby swordsmanship or your basic everyday magic? Face it, Ken...

You have no talent." Chris didn't hold back. "Guess you should have followed Akun when he asked the goddess to send him home." His words hung in the air, a stinging taunt.

John sensed that the situation had gone far enough. He reached out with his right arm, placing it firmly on Chris's shoulder, and interjected, "Enough with him." His grip was tight, emphasizing the urgency of his words. "This is not what we're here for," he continued, his tone taking on a slightly firm edge.

Chris let out an exasperated sigh, feeling the pressure from John's grip. "Fine... Let go of my shoulder already," he grumbled, wincing a bit at the discomfort. John complied, releasing his hold, and Chris turned away, beginning to walk off. "That's a wrap. See you later, Ken," he called over his shoulder.

John followed Chris, striding away from Ken without a backward glance. However, he paused in his tracks, still not facing Ken, and spoke in a cold, distant tone, "Give it up, Ken. It's not going to work out. You're only making yourself look pathetic by trying so hard." Ken gritted his teeth, struggling to contain his anger.

"Try your hand at something different," John suggested, his words carrying a finality that cut deep. He continued without looking back at Ken. "Maybe you can become a businessman or a noble. Get rich... Seems that's the only thing you 'might' have talent for. Till then, later." With that, he resumed his departure, leaving Ken seething with frustration and self-doubt.

After Chris and John had left, Ken's frustration boiled over. He flung the sword he had been clutching to the ground with a resounding clang. "Those bastards. Who do they think they are?" His voice seethed with anger. "To talk to me like that. I'll make them pay, teach them their place." His fists clenched tightly, bearing the strain of his pent-up frustration from his sword training.

Suddenly, a mysterious voice cut through the air, causing Ken's heart to race. "And how exactly do you plan on doing that?"

Ken felt a shiver down his spine as he hastily retrieved the sword he had thrown, his eyes darting around the training grounds. "Who are you? Show yourself!" he demanded, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and determination.

The voice let out a chuckle, savoring the tension in the air, before responding, "As you wish."

Ken braced himself, expecting the figure to appear from a certain direction. But to his surprise, the voice seemed to materialize right behind him, and with a mischievous "boo," Ken was startled and tumbled backward, landing on the ground. He scrambled to his feet and looked up to see a man with gray hair and a gray mustache, dressed like a butler and wearing glasses. Find exclusive stories on empire

The butler-like figure regarded Ken with an amused yet condescending expression.

"For a hero, that was quite pathetic," the mysterious man remarked, his tone dripping with mockery. "I can't believe you are one of the chosen ones destined to defeat my liege."

Ken, still trembling, mustered up his courage and demanded, "Who are you?"

The butler-like man responded playfully, "Who am I? Does that really matter? I'm here to offer you power. Don't you want it?" His offer hung in the air, a tempting but enigmatic proposition that left Ken torn between fear and curiosity.